In Perpetuum et Unum Diem
by Petronille
Summary: Colllinsport, 1967. Original Vampire Elijah Mikaelson sends his most trusted fledgling, Marie Duplessis, to investigate rumors of a vampire terrorizing the small Maine town. But nothing in Collinsport is as it appears, and Marie discovers that there's more to Barnabas Collins's curse than meets the eye...as in a witch who won't die and a certain Petrova doppelganger.


**Disclaimer: I don't own **_**Dark Shadows, The Originals, **_**or **_**The Vampire Diaries**_**, and Marie Duplessis was an actual historical person. Rather AU for all three series. Reviews and constructive criticism are appreciated.**

**In Perpetuum et Unum Diem**

**Chapter One**

_New York City._

_October, 1967._

It wasn't a difficult thing to do, getting Marie to come to New York; long ago, as the weather had become colder, she had often departed for a warmer, gentler climate, claiming that somehow it was gentler on her lungs, but she no longer gave that excuse.

"But Marie, darling," Elijah had always chided her, "it shouldn't matter. The weather has had no effect on your lungs for years."

Marie would toss her dark head and give a very French huff, poking him in the shoulder with elegant fingers adorned by her lapis daylight ring and a circlet of diamonds he had purchased for her once on a whim during the Belle Epoque. _"Méchant!" _she would retort. "How would you know anything about my lungs?"

It had been, of course, a game between them, most of the time, unless he remembered how he had found her when he had gone to her apartment during those last few days. Pale, feverish, coughing up blood, and holding her arms out to him when he entered her boudoir. As he had held her close to him, carefully so that he might not break her as her small body was wracked by the coughing, he had felt tears prick his eyes. "What can I do to help you, Marie?" he had said to her, wiping the beads of sweat from her pale brow.

She had removed the blood-covered handkerchief from her mouth, her dark eyes bright with fever. "Turn me," she begged. "Please, Elijah, turn me…I want to live…"

He had done as she had asked, had watched her hand go limp and drop the bloody handkerchief before he opened a vein in his wrist and held it in front of her mouth so that she could drink. She had spluttered a bit at the taste of the blood, and he had helped her to sit up so that she could consume the needed amount. She had looked at him in such a way after she had finished that he had thought his heart might burst. And he had spirited her out of her apartment that night, promising her that she would know nothing but happiness from now on.

Those years with Marie had been happy, he thought now. She was such a vibrant creature, one who gave herself over completely to every emotion, every pleasure that this life could offer. He could say that she lived her new life as fully as her old one, and that she had made him do the same. But of course it had been Niklaus—had it not always been Niklaus?—who had driven the wedge between them, and whom Marie could not abide. "His depravity, Elijah!" she had whispered one night after they had walked in upon a bloody scene. "How can you bear it, even if he is your brother?"

"I bear it because he is my brother," he had replied, and she had stared at him as though he were mad. "I believe that one day, he might see the error of his ways and redeem himself."

"He seems to revel in the things he does," she had remarked. "I cannot bear him any longer, Elijah! Let's leave this house, and go away, and forget him…"

But he could not. Not even when he had held her in his arms as she had sobbed, begging him to come away with her, for she loved him so. "More than any of the lovers from during my lifetime! Please Elijah…"

In the end, his loyalty to his family and his hopes for his brother won out. So she had left. And she did not tell him where she was going.

He had spent the years of the First World War in agony, wondering what had happened to her, until he had seen a picture of her in the newspaper, dancing on a table in Paris with Zelda Fitzgerald. He had gone to her again, and they had spent a giddy five years in Paris before his father had discovered his whereabouts. And he had had to flee like a criminal, stowing away on a merchant marine bound for the States.

She had just returned to the United States, sending him a telegram from San Francisco, and he urged her to come to New York for a visit. She was still as lovely as always, he thought as he watched her enter the hotel lobby. She smiled when she saw him, and he found himself as dazzled as he had always been.

"It's been too long, Marie," he said as he ushered her to his room. She laughed, showing her pearly teeth.

"You speak as though it's been months and not years!" she exclaimed, removing her coat with the same grace she had possessed when removing her negligee during her lifetime. "Have you ordered champagne?"

"Room service is bringing it up. Along with your favorite caviar. And tonight, we go downtown…"

"To feed," she murmured, her dark eyes shining.

"And whatever else you would like to do after that," he said, stepping toward her and closing the gap between them. She smiled up at him, then shook her head, stepping away.

"As much as I love you, and as much as I want to, you know it would only lead to more heartache," she told him quietly. "Can't we be friends, and pretend we were just that, instead of lovers?"

"So we'll spend this week in New York as friends?"

"Why shouldn't we? There is so much to see in New York—it would be very easy to fill up our days and nights!" she exclaimed. Soon room service entered with the champagne and caviar.

He did not know what to make of this, only that he and Marie had somehow grown apart over years of not seeing each other, and that their love for one another was, for her, a pleasant memory, one upon which to build a strong friendship.

He had joined the ranks of Dumas fils and Lizst and others, he supposed, men whom she had loved and whom she would remember fondly once their ardor had cooled.

Or perhaps she was protecting herself, for how many times had he chosen his family over his love for her? Too many, and she would no longer allow herself to be hurt by his choices.

Nonetheless, they spent a pleasant afternoon, and after that he took her to the opera, something she had always adored. And then they went downtown to feed.

There were several places where they might go to feed on willing humans, for a price, and Elijah took Marie to one of the less seedy parts of town. There were murmurs among the other vampires present when Marie and Elijah entered, for an Original vampire was a rare sight indeed.  
>He took into account the way in which some of the other vampires stared at Marie, and the hiss of, "Don't you know who she is? She was the <em>real<em> Marguerite Gauthier…"

Marie glanced up at him before she bared her fangs to take blood from the prostitute who had approached her. Marie had always been kind to women like that; even during her lifetime, her generosity had known no bounds. Once she was done, she counted out a fair amount of money and thrust it into the prostitute's eager hands. She wiped the remaining droplets of blood from her mouth with a handkerchief.

"I wish you would let me pay them, Marie," he said in between feedings. She smiled, shrugging.

"Suit yourself. "

He took his fill and compensated the donors, though he knew he would have to wait for Marie, who tended to savor blood instead of drinking it quickly.

"Elijah?" he heard a timid voice venture. "Ae you Elijah Mikaelson?"

He turned to face the speaker, a mousy young woman who seemed slightly frightened of him. "And why are you asking?"

She licked her lips, averting her eyes from his. "S-someone has a message for you. Thaddeus Radziwill wants to see you…"

Thaddeus. His brother Kol had sired Thaddeus during the last years of the Inquisition, though Thaddeus had taken more of a liking to Elijah. The vampire had taken refuge in New York City and had somehow insinuated himself in the criminal underworld. Yes, he knew that Elijah was in New York City, but why would he send someone to find him _here_, in the feeding dens?

"Is he expecting me this evening?"

The girl nodded.

"Very well then. Let me collect my lady friend, and we'll be on our way shortly."

Marie stared at him curiously when he gave her a brief explanation of what had just occurred. "I c an call a taxi for you and you can return to your hotel," he offered, but she placed her hand on his forearm and shook her head.  
>"No, Elijah. I'll come with you." She smiled up at him wanly, and he brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face.<p>

"Ah, Marie—always so loyal!" He took her hand and they approached the girl. "And where would Thaddeus like us to meet him?"

"This way." The girl led them out of the old warehouse and through a maze of alleys and side streets to a brick office building. The windows on the upper floors were dark, but the basement lights were on, and Elijah could see Thaddeus pacing around what looked to be an office. The girl led them into the building through the back way, and Elijah kept hold of Marie's hand as he led her down the basement steps.

"About time you got here," Thaddeus said impatiently to the girl.

"Sorry," she said. "It took a little while to find him. He was in one of the better dens…"

"One of the better dens?" Thaddeus turned to him, a smile breaking across his face. "Well, look at you, all fancy! All dressed up and nowhere to go! Showing the girl a good time?"

"Marie," Elijah said, "you remember Thaddeus, don't you?"

Marie inclined her head, squinting a bit. "I believe I do. New Orleans, wasn't it? During Mardi Gras…1874?"

"All those New Orleans grandes dames had nothing on you, Marie!" Thaddeus exclaimed. He addressed Elijah again. "We can talk with her here, can't we? Private stuff?"

"Marie can be trusted."

"Good…because we got a problem, Elijah…Hey, Bev, go upstairs and bring down that bottle of cognac, huh? And some ice." Once Bev had departed, Thaddeus listened for a moment. "She's good, but she doesn't need to hear this. It's too much for the kid, might give her a heart attack."

"What's too much for the kid?" Elijah echoed, watching as Marie took a seat in one of the chairs beside the desk and set to fixing her face.

"My guys in Boston, they came across this kook who's been running his mouth, talking to everyone and their mother about how he ran into a vampire in some shitty little town in Maine. They wanted to know what they oughta do, so I told them, get your hands on him, bring him to New York, we'll go from there. Since you're in town and all. So he's here in New York. I got him holed up in a motel in Queens, under lock and key. My guys compelled him, he still saying the same thing. So I thought we'd come to you, see what you thought we oughta do."

Marie snapped her compact shut with an efficient click. "Which town in Maine is it?" she ventured, her brow furrowing.

"Collinsport. You ever hear of it?"

Marie smiled mischievously. "I've not only heard of said shitty little town, I've been there. And very recently, too. One of the members of the founding families had some antiques they wanted me to appraise. He seemed to think that they would be worth quite a lot, but when I told him that only a few of them were of any value, he wasn't happy at all and declared that he would seek out the advice of a second appraiser."

Elijah frowned. "And who was the unhappy man, Marie?"

Marie laughed. "His name is Roger Collins."


End file.
